Blue Dreams
by fiercesunshine
Summary: Thirty years gives a person a lot of time to think, and Vincent Valentine has a lot to think about... especially that boy with the bright blue eyes. Valenwind.


**Warning:** This contains lots of stuff that a lot of people have problems with. I'm not entirely sure what they all are, but they're in here. If male on male bothers you, or if masturbation and imagined under-age sex bother you, then turn back now.

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Final Fantasy VII. I don't even own this blue slushie that I've been drinking for the past half an hour.

* * *

He finds himself alone in the darkness, stitched-up like some rag-doll and tossed aside only to be forgotten

He finds himself alone in the darkness, stitched-up like some rag-doll and tossed aside only to be forgotten. There is no one in the room; he can sense that, somehow, thanks to experiments and surgical knives and mako-enhancements that should have killed him, except for the fact that he had been dead for half the time they were being done. The door might be locked, or this – _a coffin_, he realizes, and the realization almost makes him laugh – might be bolted shut, but it doesn't matter. He will pay for not protecting her, and he will do it alone.

"_Not alone,"_ a voice slithers in the darkness, brushing against the back of his mind as it slithers to the front, and when Vincent shuts his eyes (not that there was a point in having them open), he can see four others there with him. _"Not alone, not anymore. We are here, we will help you, you will survive because of us. Become stronger, let us in; we can help you."_

He does as they ask, because really, what else does he have left to lose?

--

It is a year later; a year in the darkness, by himself but never alone, and he starts to think less about Hojo's experiments and Lucrecia's betrayal and more about others from his past. He hadn't been horribly social; he had been a Turk, after all, so what was the point? Besides, he had been shy – not naïve, and certainly not innocent, but shy enough that going out on Friday nights was rare. His father was dead, his mother had been for awhile, and his co-workers… well. He'd rather not think about Shinra right now, not after learning what they could do – what they had done, and would do again. A few faces filtered in; a brunette secretary who would save him one of the lemon-poppy muffins when he came in late, an elderly janitor who called him 'son' even though he knew that Vincent could dismember him in less than five minutes…

Good people, all of them. He wondered how long it would take before the companies sins became their sins, too.

"_They dwell in the darkness, but they aren't like us. Go back to sleep, and we will wait."_

Vincent never asked them what they were waiting for.

--

Another year, and red eyes open in the darkness. He is remembering again, this time thinking back to his last day in Midgar before being sent on his final mission. There had been a little boy, a blond, with blue eyes and a stubborn streak. Vincent had come across him in an alley, valiantly trying to win back a toy plane from two older boys, but losing. Tears had streaked down his dirty face, but the boy didn't know how lucky he was – the boys had spotted the Turk at the end of the alley just as they had broken his nose, but it wouldn't have stopped there. Vincent had patched the boy up, retrieved his plane, and even bought the child ice cream. Cid, as Vincent recalled the boy having proclaimed himself to be 'The Bestest Pilot Ever, Cid!', had dragged him around the slums for hours before finally returning home. Thinking back at all the lies Lucrecia had fed him, Vincent realized that it had been the last time he had been truly happy. That little boy had been the last one to truly care.

"_We care. We care so much, we don't want to ever leave you alone. We'll stay with you, forever."_

Vincent fell asleep again, mind wrapped around bright blue eyes.

--

Three years later found Vincent transforming for the first time. The growls and moans echoing from the basement of Shinra Manor kept the townspeople away for a month as each of the demons took control, testing the first body they'd had in years.

"No… I don't want this…" Vincent stammered, clutching himself as another demon threatened to take hold in one of his brief moments of humanity.

"_You want to atone, don't you? Let us out. Let us live. We can give you power if you give us life."_

Vincent screamed as black wings ripped out of his back and gave in, not knowing what else to do.

--

Five more years changed Vincent Valentine. He often woke only to find that one of the demons had taken his body, but never fought it. The fifth year, however, began with an unmistakable heat growing in his groin. A silken purr in his mind brought his attention to the fact that he was himself again. _"We want to feel good."_

Vincent gasped, speaking out loud to the voices in his head. "Why can't you? You… aren't exactly strangers to it."

A slight laugh echoed through his skull as they continued. _"It's so much easier to feel when our host feels the same… Cooperation makes it that much sweeter, and there are memories in you that you cling to… that you wish you had more of. Remember for us."_

Drugged by darkness and honey-soaked words, Vincent shut his eyes. The boy would be 15 now… hormonal and probably full of energy. Taller, more muscular – there would be that sparkle in his eyes still, and his teeth would probably gleam in the sunlight. To feel tan skin under his fingers, to taste stolen cigarettes on his lips...

Vincent moaned as he stroked, assaulted with fantasies about what could have been, even as part of him screamed at him to stop only to be smothered under wings and claws and glowing eyes.

He would bend him over his bed, let in under the guise of a tutor. But that much was true – there was much he could teach him, and in time, he would probably become the master. Until then, though, he would taste him and touch him, enjoying the knowledge that it was wrong because that made it better, sweeter. Trembling thighs and moans as he was filled for the first time, pleas for more, for something only his red-eyed elder could give…

Gasps came as he did, and in the back of his mind, unnoticed, the demons smirked and laughed at their toy even as they curled around each other.

--

Another five years came, and Vincent didn't open his eyes when he woke up. He could see them better that way, as they twisted and purred to him. _"It wouldn't be wrong now. You can quench that guilt towards him."_

His hand moved on its own accord down, and Vincent imagined the same blond-haired, blue-eyed boy at twenty. He would be taller than he had been at fifteen, and more muscular, but still slender. Those cigarettes wouldn't be stolen now, and he would probably be enlisting with Shinra for his dream of flying to be complete. He would doubtlessly find him at a bar, his brash manner convincing enough to let the barkeep fill his glass, and then they would tumble back, tripping and stumbling and then finally, _finally_ tasting each other. He would want control now, and Vincent would give it to him; he'd want to know what his pupil had learned, and it would be an experience. The alcohol would make it rough, needy, _feral_, and the thought of teeth and nails and bright blue eyes made him moan with release into the dark coffin.

"_So sweet; imagine how his blood would taste, dripping off your teeth. Imagine his screams."_

Vincent twitched, his claw slashing the wood before one of the demons wrestled him away from his conscience and his guilt and pushed him back into a sleep filled with nightmares and screams, scalpels and needles, scientists and bright blue eyes.

--

The nightmares consumed him for far longer this time. The demons stayed back, letting him keep his form, knowing that it just tortured him more because he couldn't escape into anger at not being himself. He ignored the world around him, letting time pass slowly on, and if he ever woke up he was still in a dream-like state. It was only when the smell of smoke began to filter into the basement that his red eyes opened clearly once again.

"_The fire will not harm you. It is in the town; the fire of wrath, of inhumanity."_

Vincent closed his eyes, trying to will himself back into his punishment, but the demons were not willing to let him go back – not yet. A twitching in his right hand made it clear that one of them was trying to take over… and yet they could not. Watching with a sort of distant interest, the former Turk gave a dry laugh. "The nightmares have made me stronger. Fitting, that my punishment would fail to punish me properly…"

The demons stopped trying to break free, if only for the moment. After this, they would only do so sometimes – when he was more vulnerable. They knew, even if he didn't, that he would not be in this coffin forever – the activity in the manor had been increasing of late, and it was only a matter of time.

"_We will cease for now, host."_ They lied.

Vincent's mind was suddenly not his own as they attacked his mind, assaulting him with broken fragments – Lucrecia, leaving him; Hojo, standing over him with a scalpel; the sound of the coffin locking in place; the screams of the villagers as the fire around them burned… And finally, bright blue eyes, blond hair, and skin-on-skin, rough and fast and desperate, teeth biting – _his teeth_, he realized, but they were pointed, and his nails were growing, and moans of pleasure were turning into screams as he slammed himself into that warm body and tore away at flesh that was just so inviting…

"Stop it! Make it stop, stop it, make it stop…" Vincent sobbed into the darkness, both hands clawing at his face, his claw dangerously close to his eyes. The images began to recede, and in the darkness, the demons laughed.

"_No one could ever love you. You are a monster. You're fooling yourself with thinking this way; even if things had turned out differently, who would want _you_? Lucrecia didn't; even _Hojo_ kept his hands to himself. You've tainted something, Valentine, and you'll pay for it. We're your punishment; this sleep won't last forever."_

A scream broke through the darkness.

--

Light. There were voices, three of them – all of them male, and none of them belonged to the demons in his head. They were busy stirring, almost excited, but said nothing as Vincent Valentine opened his eyes. A noise of surprise made three heads turn towards him. There was a blond with slightly feminine features, whose eyes were blue but nothing like the bright, sky-blue eyes he had fantasized about for so long. He had spiky hair and seemed to be the leader; at the very least, he was doing most of the talking. There was a red catlike creature as well, who had tattoos and a flame at the end of his tail. He vaguely remembers that creatures like this lived in Cosmo Canyon and wonders why he is here, but his attention is then drawn to the third man.

For a moment, Vincent Valentine forgets how to breathe.

A cigarette is hanging out of his mouth, pilot's goggles on his head. His hair is blonde, and most people would say that he needs a shave, but Vincent thinks the stubble suits him. He's shorter than Vincent would have thought, but then he remembers that the demons and Hojo have made his body longer, and besides, he's standing on top of the coffin that he's spent the last thirty years in.

He looks at Vincent, and it's all Vincent can do to answer Cloud's question, because those bright blue eyes are everything Vincent has ever wanted and everything that he's afraid he can't have.

Vincent goes back to his coffin. "Let me sleep," he says as Cid pounds on the door, and he sighs as he hears the footsteps. They are gone. Cid is safe.

"_This is no longer a punishment,"_ one of the demons hisses, because he is far too at ease now. They quickly remedy themselves, however, and tell him to go. _"Kill him, and maybe it will make up for letting him exist like that in the first place."_ Vincent thinks about it. He almost says no, and then he thinks about the light in those bright blue eyes going out at the tip of a long sword, and he stands.

His sins are many, he decides, but that sin is one that he can not live with. 'Just to keep him safe,' he decides as he informs Cloud that he would like to come with. 'I won't try anything.'

--

True to his word, Vincent Valentine doesn't extend any hand towards Cid other than that of friendship, and that is only after the pilot forces it upon him.

It is Cid Highwind, in his bold way, who shoves Vincent against a wall in their room at the end, pointedly ignoring the switched-off Cait Sith in the corner, and kisses him before telling that it's been far too long since they've gotten ice cream together.

"You knew?" Vincent asks, astonished, and Cid laughs sheepishly.

"Took me awhile, but yeah. You're don't look the same way I always pictured you."

The implication in those words takes a minute to sink in, but when it does, Vincent smiles. The demons howl, but Vincent ignores them, because he's too busy closing the gap between their lips as he looks into those bright blue eyes.


End file.
